Of Lovers and Dawn

I dreamed in you, of a lover that would not leave with the morning.

Flying with the wings of the dawn to another’s embrace by sunset,

Wrapped in the light of all my love,

With the shadows of my suffering adding contours to your face in the light.

I dreamt in you of one who stays through the night,

And in the words of some Shakespearean tragedy convinces me it is not the dawn.

Nay, there are no larks here,

Only nightingales.

I held in your hand the feeling of being felt.

The pressure of yours in mine hinting at something that might be called permanence.

And I almost rejoiced when morning shone on your cherub features,

Glad the sun’s rays didn’t hasten to wake you,

But through the narrows of weathered blinds

Tugged around your shoulders til you woke.

I was right to envision you staying through the morning.

And coffee and tea and tangled summer sheets,

And farewell embraces before a long day’s work.

I did well to tie you into the strands of the morning’s song.

You left at noon.